


Nothing for Free 2

by xtricks



Series: Nothing For Free [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtricks/pseuds/xtricks





	Nothing for Free 2

Ianto was sitting in a caf with a smoke and a cuppa when he saw that john again. He thought about him sometimes, when he was muddying his knees outside Minsky's, or getting rained on while peddling his arse. It pissed him off every time. One nameless john in a line hundreds long didn't deserve space in his brain.

He hadn't been back to Bute Park since then, he'd taken to the corners around Minsky's instead, pretty sure a guy who dressed up in faux military wasn't going to hang near a drag bar. He got more money now, but more of a chance of catching a beating, or being arrested. At least he had a place to sit that wasn't a toilet, even if the coffee tasted like piss. 

"There it is," Hugh shook Ianto's shoulder, "look at that, mate. 'uman nature, tooth and claw an' all that."

The one of the cooks behind the counter jacked up the volume of the tiny TV sitting on a shelf at one end of the dingy shop and the news announcer's voice could be heard over the fry and the late night chatter. 

_" – horrific and nightmarish crimes might have been going on for generations."_ Behind the newscaster, with her wind-blown hair and her received accent, police lights flashed across open countryside. The camera panned suddenly to several bloody figures in cuffs; men and women and even another copper. But they weren't what made Ianto straighten up in the plastic booth and nearly inhale his cigarette. There was a big black SUV in the background, the sort with noisy engines and polished windows, and it looked ridiculously out of place against scenic mountains and blue sky. There was no way he couldn't recognize the long blue coat and the man wearing it. His john, out there on the official side of the police line, hovering over a couple limping towards the SUV. The camera panned away to follow the criminals, leaving Ianto with nothing but a glimpse of the man's profile and the wave of his hand as he shoved a reporter – not gently – away from his friends.

"Fuck," Ianto leaned back, still staring at the screen. His bothersome john was a fucking _copper._

"Guess they couldn't eat th' sheep, yeah?" Hugh jostled Ianto with an elbow, grinning through two broken teeth. "Part of the family an' all." 

"What?" Ianto stared at Hugh, until the news ticker registered at the bottom of the screen with words like _cannibals_ and _multiple unsolved disappearances_ and _special enforcement branch from Cardiff_ registered. Ianto's stomach turned and he bolted for the lav. The smell for a moment was too familiar; piss and smoke, and he leaned over the rust stained sink, stomach turning. Arms braced against the porcelain, done spitting out the dregs of bitter tea, Ianto stared at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn't a pretty thing, with furtive creases at the corners of his eyes and a pallor that came from bad food, bad hours and a bad, bad life.

He needed a haircut and a shave, food that didn’t come from a deep fryer and a place to sleep that didn't put circles under his eyes. He didn't need a special forces copper with an interest in rent boys. Ianto tried to comfort himself with the fact that the john couldn't exactly do anything official when he'd been the one with his dick in Ianto's arse. That john, whoever he was, had nothing to do with Ianto. 

"Fuck," he muttered, tempted in a moment of panic to just take off for London, or Edinburgh or anywhere fucking else but Cardiff. But his sister was here. His family, for all that mattered. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck!"_

"Okay, okay," he muttered, staring into his own eyes. "You'll be okay. Money for services rendered, that's all."

Those tired eyes didn't believe him. Ianto gave himself the V and went back to work.

He had a favorite corner where he could sit on the edge of a bus bench and get good post club traffic. Tipsy johns were usually too uncoordinated to hurt him, easy to rook extra money out of, and quick to get off, or get tired when they were too drunk to get it up. He just had to make sure they didn't puke on him. He put the john out of his mind and got to work.

Ianto was still working, as the clubs began to wind down for the night, when he heard steady footsteps heading his way. He tucked a mint into his mouth and turned around with a smile … that grew fixed as soon as his eyes fell on the tall figure in a coat too heavy for the weather.

"It's you," he said, unpleasantly surprised. And in unison with the john. However, after a blank moment, the john looked anything but disappointed.

"Well, this night is finally looking up," the smile was still perfect and the gaudy lights from Minsky's splashed blue and pink across the man's face and brass buttons. "I'd imagined you'd found some sugar daddy to take you to a life of leisure on some Caribbean beach."

Ianto gave an exaggerated look down at himself then back at the john. "Somehow I don't think I'm suited to sunny beaches, there are morlocks with better tans than mine."

The man laughed, noisy and startlingly genuine. "You're no morlock, let me tell you … though there's nothing wrong with a little subterranean exploration …." The john waggled his brows lasciviously as Ianto blinked at him.

"Are you really using _morlock_ references as bad pick-up lines?" Ianto propped a foot against the bus bench and crossed his arms, trying to remember that it wasn't a good idea to be around this guy, or enjoy himself. "Because the Time Machine is such a porn classic."

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" the john chuckled.

Ianto shook his head, a smile tugging at his mouth. "Luckily you don't need pick-up lines with me. Just money." For once, he didn't even feel bitter – much – about it and was surprised again by the relaxed smile the john gave him.

"Sometimes that's a relief," the man said and draped an arm around Ianto's shoulders. He stiffened but didn't throw him off, torn between getting away from this whole situation and somehow trying to stay under the radar. "Now, it's late but I've got twenty pounds and you've got a very smart mouth. What do you say?"

"I say for twenty-five I'll climb out of a sewer and pretend to be a morlock for you," Ianto stepped away from the man's warm side and nodded at the mouth of a nearby alley. "My office."

The john followed him into the shadows with no sign of concern and it meant he was stupid or far too sure of himself for Ianto's taste. Ianto was hoping for stupid, sharply aware as they stopped in a patch of angular shadows that if this man got too interested in him, wondered who he was or why he was turning tricks outside a drag bar, everything Ianto had left could fall apart. He smiled at the john and smoothed his hand down the man's chest, buttons catching under his palm. "Want a little warm up first?"

"Oh, yeah," the john leaned back against the painted concrete, pushing his coat away and bracing his legs. He wore a belt and bracers, weird bloke that he was.

Ianto flicked his belt open, pausing to cup a hand over the erection swelling in the john's pants before tugging on the zip. He stepped close, tucking the backs of his fingers into the open fly and rubbing his knuckles against the heat he could feel. The john's clothes were clean, thankfully, and he wasn't drunk, he smelled kind of nice, actually, something that reminded Ianto he hadn't eaten since the morning and made him lick his lips as his mouth watered. When the john ran a hand up Ianto's arm, he flinched. The streetlights made the john's face look tired and sad and his blue eyes colorless as he stilled his touch.

"I don't kiss," Ianto said defensively, resisting the urge to step back. Standing like this, with his hand on the man's cock, everything felt too close.

The john gave a weary half-smile. "I didn't think you would."

Still he pulled Ianto close, until they were chest to chest, and pressed his face into the crook of Ianto's neck. Startled, Ianto let him, feeling breath warm on his neck and the warm cock in his hand. It was the first time he'd been held in so long … and Ianto's heart thumped hard in his chest and he leaned sharply back, pasting smile on his face as the other man looked up at him curiously.

He gave the john's cock a suggestive squeeze, satisfied as his eyes unfocused and the questions in them blurred into lust. Ianto sank down, knees hitting familiar tarmac. The hand stroking through his hair was innocuous enough, if unexpected as he leaned forward, tugging the hard cock free of the john's expensive trousers. His pants underneath were plain tighty-whiteys and, thank christ, clean.

He wasn't quite hard yet, not all the way, and Ianto didn't want to spend all night down here so he gave the john's cock a couple of strokes with his fist, and a lick to the flushed crown. The john groaned and tightened his hand in Ianto's hair. Ianto took the hint and opened his mouth.

Ianto didn't much like sucking cock. The taste, the pressure, the fast feel of the john's pulse along the underside of his dick … it was too close … too intimate. To _personal._ Ianto didn't want to know anything about the guys who bought him, they were just strangers shoving their cocks into a mouth full of teeth on a guy who didn't much like anyone. This cock though, this john; clean and washed and if his hands were tight in Ianto's hair, at least he wasn't trying to gag him with his prick, was different somehow. The tremors of restraint in his thighs in the long fingers rubbing against his scalp made Ianto's mouth water and he wanted to suck up the taste and the vague sense that this was almost enjoyable. Groaning around the thick shaft, Ianto bobbed his head steadily, eyes closed. Spit slicked his chin, and he gripped the man's trousers to make it easier to ignore the stiffening of his own prick.

The taste of pre-come made Ianto work more eagerly; it would be over soon, not because he wanted this, not because this john felt good, tasted good, and the huffing breathing over his head was like a reward for a job well done. As well as the money, of course. _No_ , Ianto's mouth tensed around the thrusting shaft, _all he cared about was the money._

"Fuck, that's a good mouth on you, you pretty whore," the john groaned, not really surprising, considering last time. At least this time Ianto couldn't be expected to talk with his mouth full. "You just keep on sucking me down … _all_ the way down –" a thrust now, here at the edge, but Ianto was relaxed enough to go with it. He swallowed, groaned, muffled, wet, and felt the twitch and jump of the cock stuffing his mouth before the instant of climax and the hot pulse of come.

"Christ!" the john shouted as Ianto jerked back, managing to spit most of it out as a last spurt caught him on the cheek. The john was glaring down at him. "I don’t have any diseases! You could at least swallow."

Ianto snorted and climbed to his feet, knees creaking, and wiped his face on his sleeve. "I bet you say that to all the rent boys you fuck."

The john's mouth twisted in reluctant acknowledgement. 

Ianto held out his hand, impatient now to be done with this. "There you go, best blow-job this side of the future."

The john glanced up from fastening his trousers, belt still swinging free. "Don't be too sure," he murmured, the glint in his eyes a joke Ianto didn't get. He pulled out his wallet though, and counted the money into Ianto's palm. "Is this your working corner now?" he asked casually and Ianto closed his fist on the money.

"I cruise around," he lied. "Don't have a regular beat. Do you wash your cock in cologne or what?"

"Huh?"

"You smell like …" Ianto trailed off uncomfortably, then shrugged.

The john tossed his head like a drama queen and laughed. "That's all me. Pretty good, yeah?"

Ianto scowled. "Whatever, I'm not paid to care what you smell like." He couldn’t stop himself from the dig, had to get this john to stop acting like they got _along,_ like this was anything but a cheap, disgusting deal in a dark alley.

The john's face stiffened. "You're paid to like whatever I want," he snapped.

Ianto shoved the money into his jeans and stepped warily back onto the sidewalk, crossing his arms and jerking his chin up in defiance he knew he couldn't really afford. "Twenty-five bought you a blow-job and that's what you got. You want something better, go on the pull and pick up a girl who'll pretend to care." _More than I do,_ was left unspoken but the way the john stiffened, it was clear he heard it just fine.

The john's toothy smile was ugly. "That's right, I bought a cheap whore and that's exactly what I got, isn't it?"

Ianto stiffened, but swallowed against the bitter words on his tongue. He knew better than to get in a fight with a john and this one? He wanted this one to _forget_ about him. "That's right," he said, hating the strain in his voice. "That's exactly what you got."

He had to walk away then, before the john said something and he said something else. Ianto turned his back on the man, listening warily for running footsteps, half-afraid he was going to earn a beat-down for behaving like a human being, instead of a … cheap whore. Instead, he just heard a sharp exhale, maybe a curse, maybe something else, then the scrape of boots on the sidewalk. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the tail of the man's ridiculous coat disappearing around the corner.

Ianto slumped against a wall, cinderblock cold against his back. His hands were shaking and what the hell was he supposed to do if the john came back _again?_ He didn't have much left and how was he supposed to lose more?

"Fuck," he whispered. "Fuck, no."


End file.
